Hope and Promises: The 51st Hunger Games
by are you with me
Summary: 51 years after the rebellion, the Games continue. One year after the second Quell, and the tension between the districts is stronger then ever. Last year, Haymitch made the Capitol the laughingstock of Panem, after pulling his act of rebellion. This year, Head Gamemaker is determined to remind the districts who's in charge. /on indefinite hiatus
1. Tributes Application

_Fifty-one years after the rebellion, and the Games continue. One year after the second Quell, and the tension between the districts is stronger then ever. Last year, Haymitch made the Capitol the laughingstock of Panem, after pulling his act of rebellion. This year, Head Gamemaker, Monique Silver, is determined to remind the districts who's in charge._

_Deadly surprises lay in every corner, in an arena packed with mutts beyond imaginable, thirsty for blood. Full of friendship, adventure, suspense, tragedy, maybe even some romance, the Fifty-First Hunger Games would be one to remember. _

_Twenty-four go in... the question is, who would come out? Let the Fifty-First Hunger Games begin, and may the odds EVER be in your favour._

_-By Parris Monique Adele Silver  
_

* * *

**Tributes Application Form **

_*Please be detailed, the more detailed it is, the more likely I'd choose it. Submissions through PM only, any review submissions would be deleted. Also, no Mary Sues or Gary Stus, any of those would be killed in bloodbath. You may submit two regular tributes (no promises that I'll choose them both) and as many bloodbaths as you want. I plan to have at least six bloodbaths in the story. I might be submitting a character or so of my own, but if I do, I promise there will be no advantages for him/her, and they will not be declared winner. By submitted a tribute, you are allowing me to make any changes necessary to them. Remember, this is not first come first serve. I will carefully read over each submission, and choose the one that seems most interesting, and fits their district best.  
_

_*Optional_

Name:

*Nickname:

Gender:

Age (12-18):

District:

*Backup District:

Appearance (Hair, Eyes, Body type etc.):

Personality (Please be descriptive, the more details, the more likely I'll choose him/her):

Family:

Friends:

*Relationship:

Reaped or Volunteered:

Reaction/Why:

*Reaping Outfit:

** Pre-Games**

Training Strategy:

*Training in front of the Game-Makers (ideas):

*Interview Outfit:

Interview Angle:

*Chariot Outfit (Ideas):

**Skills**

Strengths (Max 5):

Weaknesses (Min 3):

Fears:

For the rest please rate from 1-10 with 10 being perfect.

Aim:

Swimming:

Climbing:

Strength:

Social Skills:

Speed:

Pain Tolerance:

Knowledge of Edible Plants:

Balance:

Determination:

Stamina:

Optimism:

Pessimism:

Stealthiness (ability to sneak up on someone undetected):

Hiding abilities:

**Games**

Games Strategy:

*Allies (Y/N):

*Romance (Y/N, who? I'll take one romance at most. Personally, I think the idea is overdone):

*Token:

Career? (District 1 and 2 are automatic):

Bloodbath? (Will you die in it?):

Strategy for the Cornucopia:

View of Killing?

*Preferred Death?


	2. Tributes List

_Head Gamemaker, Monique Silver, shuffled her arena diagrams and notes nervously, as she stood in front of President Spark's office. She raised one hand to knock, thought better of it, before lowering it to re-shuffle her notes, double-checking for the fourth time in a row, desperately buying herself more time._

_Miss Silver, or Monique, was well known to be a confident, bright young lady. She hadn't succeed in becoming first women Head Gamemaker by being insecure and timid, but even she was nervous at the thought of displeasing President Spark. She doesn't know what had happened to the last Head Gamemaker, Damien Phoenix, Head Gamemaker for twelve years, who had mysteriously "retired" at the age of forty-three, moved into a mansion at the edge of the Capitol, near the border of District One, and disappeared from the face of earth._

_She doesn't want to know, and if she doesn't succeed in making this years Games one of the best, replacing everyone's memories of the previous year, 50th Hunger Games, Second Quell, where District Twelve's winner, Haymitch Abernathy, pulled his stunt of rebellion, she would find out first handed._

_Straightening her dress suit, brushing off an invisible speck of dust, Monique took a deep breath, before raising her hand-_

_"Come in."_

_Monique's hand froze an inch from the door's oak surface, before dropping it to her side uselessly. "Yes sir," she said, her tone cool and collected, surprising even herself. It was a whole different story from the battle in her head, as the consequences of failure raced through her mind._

_Inside, President Spark sat in midst of a large, polished *mahogany desk, which took up almost half the large room itself. It's surface was unnervingly neat and tidy. President Spark lazily took a sip of tea from a delicately carved teacup, no doubt made by experts from District One, yet his eyes were sharp and focused._

_Her perfectly manicured hands trembling just so slightly, Monique placed the neatly typed notes and hand-drawn diagrams carefully on President Spark's desk. _

_"The arena plans, sir," she said._

_Slowly, President Spark leafed through the notes, exclaiming each diagram carefully. His face showed no expression, but Monique took it as a good sign that he didn't toss them aside immediately with distaste. The room was silent, only the steady ticking of the hand-carved, gold clock mounted on the back wall providing any sound. Monique found the silence unnerving, and the knot in her chest tightened as each second ticked by._

_Finally, President Spark put down the last sheet of paper. "Very well, Miss Silver," he said, giving her a nod of approval, a slight glint of interest in his cold, hard eyes. He offered her a thin smile, that didn't reach his eyes. "I like the way you think."_

_The knot in Monique's chest unraveled slightly. But she must not let her guard down._

_This wasn't the end. This was merely the beginning.  
_

_-By Parris Monique Adele Silver_

* * *

Just to give you a small taste of my writing before handed. So, what do you think? Love it? Like it? Hate it? Well, I won't know unless you review and tell me! Come on, just click on the review button, even a brief "I like it" or "I hate it" or even just a smiley face would make my day! Pretty please? I take criticism very well... (just remember, saying, "This is horrible, I absolutely hate it" could make a big difference to me by saying, something like, "Well, maybe if you just changed..."

_-Parris Monique Adele Silver_

*"_...mahogany desk..." "That was mahogany!" _:) I couldn't help it.

_-Parris Silver_

_***Just a reminder, this story is re-posted, and it was once known as "Life or Death: The 71st Hunger Games". If you had submitted a tribute to my first SYOT, and would like to resubmit your tribute, your tribute would get first consideration for his/her district. Also, this SYOT is NOT first come first serve. If I have decided to use your tribute, you will receive a PM informing you so. In a have not received a PM back confirming your tributes participation by the time the list if full, then the slot would go to another tribute.**  
_

* * *

**Tribute List- Update No.3**

***In need of male tributes and bloodbaths!**

**District 1-**

Female (17) Gwen Graycli, submitted by _Jaide00 _***resubmitted**

Male (16) Wynter Dolestin, submitted by _N00Ni's Moon _***resubmitted**

**District 2**-

Female (13) Helena "Howl" Draconix, submitted by _incubiis_

Male (17) Scar Dragovar, submitted by _N00Ni's Moon _***resubmitted**

**District 3-**

Female (14) Lace Gunner, submitted by _Jaide00 _***bloodbath**

Male (17) Declan Kingsley, submitted by _SeekerDraconis _***bloodbath**

**District 4**-

Female (17) Gazelle "GiGi" Haldein, submitted by _Zssillybilly_

Male (17) Blake Sevan, submitted by _Hutsune_

**District 5**-

Female (12) Angela Raven Lockhart, submitted by _Laugh-Read-Music-Dream_

Male (15) Chase Cameron Everett, submitted by _May-the-Odds_

**District 6**-

Female (16) Astrid Greenwich, submitted by _quiet-little-wallflower _

Male (16) Casper J. Odin, submitted by _yahbrahchill _***bloodbath**

**District 7**-

Female (12) Giovanna Girilius, submitted by _N00Ni's Moon _***bloodbath**

Male (13) Milo Anthony Dracomir, submitted by _SeekerDraconis_

**District 8-**

Female (15) Ashbrie Crimson, submitted by _EverlastingActress_

Male (16) Aidan Mece, submitted by _EverlastingActress_

**District 9- **

Female (14) Maybre Westbrook, submitted by _RuexxRoses_

Male (18) Roketi Mauluga, submitted by _RockSolid_

**District 10- **

Female (14) Eden Clarke, submitted by _The Unwritten Panda_

Male (17) Finnian "Finny" Wheeler, submitted by _Zssillybilly_ ***bloodbath**

**District 11**-

Female (18) Ginger Milling, submitted by _yahbrahchill_

Male (14) Quailey Moorling, submitted by _quiet-little-wallflower _***bloodbath**

**District 12**-

Female (13) Kazanna Starling, submitted by _Laugh-Read-Music-Dream_

Male (14) Marquer Deruse, submitted by _EverlastingActress _***bloodbath**

* * *

***Please send in your tributes! And bloodbaths, I can't write the story without bloodbaths, and I'll be heartbroken to have to choose from your wonderful tributes!**

_-Parris Monique Adele Silver _**  
**


	3. District One Reapings

**Author's Note:** _Okay, I said I would put the reapings in all one chapter. But I've been so busy lately, that I barely have any time. I need to write the reapings, write the reapings for AlwaysHasAPlan's "Blood Dreams" 24 authors, 24 tribute story (which my tribute may or may not be in it. According to AlwaysHasAPlan, the writer for the D9 female backed out, but I'm still waiting for confirmination), this Percy Jackson fanfic I'm working on, which I'll be posting through my other account, and this non-fanfiction story I'm working on called "June Twentieth"._

_But anyways, I finished District One's reapings. I meant to make them shorter, but... Anyways, the rest of the reapings will be put together in one chapter. But, I decided to post them first for y'all to read, becaus I'm trying this new idea for it. Instead of making the reapings from the tribute's P.O.V, I'm doing it from the P.O.V of Monique Silver, Head Gamemaker. I wanted you guys to see beforehand how it turns out, that way if you don't like it this way, I can always change it. So yeah, leave a review and tell me what you think!_

_-Parris Monique Adele Silver_

_One last thing. We are offically dedicating "Hope and Promises: The 51st Hunger Games" to Hip Hoprock District One male tribute of the "Disastrous 42nd Hunger Games", written by Hoprocker. Go check it out!_

_-Parris and Priscilla Silver_

* * *

Head Gamemaker, Monique Silver's P.O.V

I let out a heavy sigh as I flopped down on the smooth, leather couch, before quickly straightening my posture, scolding myself mentally.

I might be out of work, but I couldn't let my guard down. The slightest mistake would result in failure, which I couldn't afford, not if I wanted to continue to live. Besides, my reputation was at stake. As Head Gamemaker, reporters were always hounding me, and at least ten of them stood outside my house right now, hoping to catch any information about the upcoming, fifty-first Hunger Games.

Straightening my already perfect, smooth, pin-straight black hair (which happens to be real, as rare as that is in the Capitol), I flipped on the large, flat-screen T.V, which took up half the wall of the living room of my high-tech, modern, expensive, apartment.

Absentmindedly, I flipped through the channels, before stopping at the reaping recaps. I'd been so busy working that I hadn't gotten the time to watch them myself, and it was crucial for the Head Gamemaker to know the tributes.

The usual speech I've heard a million times before played, before the District One's reapings began.

"Welcome, citizens of District One! Welcome to the 51st Annual Hunger Games! I am so excited to be here today! And may the odds EVER, be in your favor!" came the upbeat, overly bubbly, high-pitched voice of Minnie Gold, the District One stylist.

I immediately took notice of her outfit, curly, neon green hair with matching shoes and purse, and a neon orange dress-suit. She had a large, jeweled ring on every finger. I shook my head in disgust. I may have lived in the Capitol all my life, but I still didn't understand their fashions. I wasn't the only one.

"Ladies first!"

Miss Gold reached into the large, glass bowl, her multiple rings clanking loudly.

"Gwen Gracyli!"

A tall, thin girl stepped out from the eighteen year old section. She had gorgeous, long blonde hair. It looked almost as if it was bleached, but had that natural look about it. Her eyes, like chips of blue ice, had a hard and determined look in them, that complimented her high cheekbones.

"I volunteer!" another girl called out from somewhere in the crowd, but Gwen continued walking towards the stage without falterering, as if she hadn't heard her. "I volunteer!" the girl called out again, pushing her way desperately through the crowd. "I volunteer! I volunteer!"

Gwen spun around slowly to face the girl. The other girl was also eighteen, but almost half a head shorter then Gwen. She seemed to shrink under Gwen's unwavering, cold, hard stare.

"I-I volunteer?" she repeated, no longer sounding so sure of herself.

Turning back around without a word, Gwen made her way up the stage, as the other girl slowly stumbled back into the crowd, looking confused and embarrassed.

"Wonderful!" Minnie chirped. "Absolutely wonderful! And I just love your hair, darling! Now, for the male tribute of District One!"

"Wynter Dolestin!"

I paused, waiting for a volunteer. Wasn't that what the Career districts were about?

I was met with only applause and cheering, as a tall, slim boy with short, jet black hair stepped out from the sixteen year old section. He threw his hands up in victory, as his friends and classmates congratulated him. He strolled onto the stage with confidence, before giving an honourable bow. I couldn't help but take notice of his mismatched eyes, his left eye a light mocha brown, his right a deep, dark brown, almost black (and black eyes were a bit unsettling).

"I give you Gwen Gracyli and Wynter Dolestin, District One's tributes for the Fifty-First Annual Hunger Games!"

The crowd went wild, and the scene faded as Gwen and Wynter shook hands, before being escorted into the Justice Building.

_-Parris Monique Adele Silver, edited by Priscilla Silver_


	4. District Two and Three Reapings

_Author's Note: I know I promised in the last chapter to include all reapings in one chapter, but... It's hard. Very hard. So, in the meantime I present you with... District Two and Three's reapings! Also, anyone reading this, please check out "Blood Dreams", published by 24and24. It's a twenty-four authors and twenty-four tributes collaboration, and I am the author of the District Nine female! :) One last thing...any Percy Jackson fans here? If so, check out my Percy Jackson fanfic, "Freedom", published from my other account, Laugh-Read-Music-Dream. While you're at it, check out my sister, Priscilla's PJO fanfic, "Demigod Different", published from her other account, JuneTwentieth._

_-Parris Monique Adele Silver_

* * *

Head Gamemaker, Monique Silver's P.O.V

_The crowd went wild, and the scene faded as Gwen and Wynter shook hands, before being escorted into the Justice Building._

The District Two reapings came up, zooming in on the crowd in the City Square. The crowd was strangely silent, everyone in their places, a look of anticipation on their faces, as if they've been waiting for a long time for this moment.

They exploded in applause the minute the mayor stepped acorss the stage to read the speech.

They went through the same rituals, the speech, the video, the announcing of previous victors...

"Jennifer Watkins!"

A tall, slender eighteen year old walked out from the back of crowd, smiling confidently, looking overjoyed at her luck.

It didn't last long.

"I volunteer!" came a small voice from near the front of the crowd. The camera zoomed around, trying to find the cause of the voice. A small thirteen year old, barely five feet tall, walked through the parting of the crowd.

She approached the stage with confidence and determination radiating off of her, as the eighteen year old, Jennifer, looked furious at being upstaged by an thirteen year old. She opened her mouth, as if to protest and argue, but the young girl had already ascended the stage, and Peacekeepers pulled her back.

"Oh, a volunteer! How exciting!" the District Two escort, Violet Lavender White exclaimed.

As if there wasn't one every year.

But, then again, a thirteen year old volunteer from District Two, that's something new. You wouldn't think she'd make it far from her small size, but the look of pure determination on her face made me think twice. She was going to make it far, I knew that for sure, but something about her made me doubt she would win. She'd probably end up being taken down by a mutt, or a fellow Career.

"What is your name, dear?" Violet Lavender White asked, bending down and holding the microphone to the young girl.

"Helena Draconix, but you can call me Howl," Helena, "Howl" replied, in a clear, confident voice.

"Wonderful, Helena!" Violet said cheerfully. I saw "Howl" scowl at being called her given name.

"District Two, I give you your female tribute for the Fifty-First Hunger Games, Helena Draconix!"

A few looks and murmurs of confusion swept through the crowd at this small girl volunteering, but the applause was as enthusiastic as ever.

"Now, for our male tribute..."

Violet's hands swept through the large, glass bowl, her neon green nails standing out against the white slips of paper.

"Alexander Cahill!"

A small, skinny twelve year old boy let out a shrill squeak, took a few steps forward, before bursting into tears. A Peacekeeper came forward, escorting the small boy upstage, where he continued to sob pitifully. Violet put her arm around the boy in a comforting, motherly way.

I shook my head in disgust, not bothering to feel sorry for the small boy. No doubt someone would volunteer for him.

Sure enough, I was right. Violet had barely began to ask for volunteers, when a hand shot up above the rest of the crowd, a deep voice booming out, "I volunteer!"

A large, muscular boy, over a foot taller then the small girl who had previously volunteered, made his way through the path the crowd had formed. As he stood up stage, I noticed a small knife scar across his right cheek. He was a fighter, and would no doubt make it far. It would take the most powerful mutt to take him down. Alexander scurried down the stage in a hurry.

"How exciting, we have two volunteers this year!" Violet announced, as if they didn't have two volunteers almost every year. Quite unlike District One, though, who surprisingly had no volunteers this year, although one girl...attempted to. "Young man, what's your name?"

"Scar Dragovar," he replied, having to bend down to reach the microphone.

"District Two, I give you Helena Draconix and Scar Dragovar! Happy Hunger Games, and may the odds ever be in your favor!"

The applause was thundering, as the two tributes shook hands, before being escorted away.

* * *

District Three's reaping was a lot less exciting then the previous two districts, though a lot more emotional. They didn't look that promising.

"Lace Gunner!"

The small, fourteen year old teared up immediately, and began sobbing silently, as she shuffled up stage. She didn't look as if she'd last five seconds in the arena.

Knowing there will be no volunteers, I couldn't help but feel a pang of sympathy for the young girl.

The selecting of the male tribute didn't involve any crying, but was just as emotional.

"Declan Kingsley!"

There was a pause, before a cry of shock came from the seventeen year old males. A boy of average height, with short black hair and emerald green eyes stepped out, looking shocked and surprised.

"B-but, there must have been a mistake!" he insisted. "My father's the mayor, he would not let this happen! I refuse to accept this!" After a lot more complaining and protesting, he finally made his way up stage, Peacekeepers at his side. He didn't look particularly strong, nothing about him stood out, unlike the previous tributes, but he looked slightly more promising than his female partner, who was still sobbing. His arrogance and self-confidence would get to him, though, and bite him back in the arena.

They shook hands, and their District offered a weak round of applause, before they were escorted into the Justice Building, Declan still murmuring protests.

_-Parris Monique Adele Silver_


	5. District Four and Five Reapings

_A/N: FINALLY, District Four and Five's reapings. Sorry with the long delay in chapters, I'm participating in two 24 authors 24 tributes collarborations, "Blood Dreams", by AlwaysHasAPlan, and "Scream", by Dances With Vampires, and it's been taking some time writing my tribute's reapings. Go check them out! "Scream" still has open tribute slots! Also, I'll be leaving for a two-week sleep-away camp tomorrow (it's a "leadership" camp my mom's forcing me to go to, after I got me and my sister suspended from our last private school...it was two weeks of suspension, and there was only two-weeks until school let out, so...), but my sister, Priscilla (gestures to my right) shall be updating! Don't miss me too much, guys! (Kidding...:)_

_-Parris M. A. S._

* * *

Head Gamemaker, Monique Silver's P.O.V

_They shook hands, and their District offered a weak round of applause, before they were escorted into the Justice Building, Declan still murmuring protests._

I scribbled down some notes on a scrap of paper about the previous tributes, as I waited for Caesar Flickermen to stop talking.

District Four came into view, with their clear, blue oceans and beaches. I could almost feel the salty sea breeze as palm trees swayed in the background.

Unlike District Two, with their silent anticipation as they waited for the ceremony to begin, District Four was quite rowdy. People milled around, chatting with their friends and family members, exchanging words of luck (not that they'll need it, there's always volunteers). It took the Peacekeepers quite a while to calm them down and get everyone in place.

The District Four escort, Shelly Breeze jumped on stage smiling and addressing the crowd, and the reaction was...loud.

The Peacekeepers had to come out once again to silence the crowd, before they went through with the usual procedures.

Finally, Shelly Breeze reached into the glass bowl, containing the names of all girls twelve through eighteen of District Four, her wave-patterned nails standing out against the slips of white paper.

"Sophie Stone!"

An average looking thirteen year old stepped out of the crowd. She stroded up the stage coolly, with confidence. Once she stood next to Shelly upstage, she turned to the crowd, as if expecting someone to step out and volunteer.

Sure enough, someone did.

"I volunteer!" someone yelled out from the crowd. A tall girl, with straight blond hair and green eyes was on stage before the escort even asked for volunteers. She smiled smugly at the crowd, satisfied she had beat all the other girls at volunteering.

"Wonderful! What's your name, young lady?" Shelly asked.

"Gazelle _Haldein_," she said, emphasizing on her last name. There were some murmurs of recognition from the crowd. "But please, call me Gigi."

"Haldein! By any chance, are you the daughter of Anamara and Johnathe Haldein, both previous victors of the thirty-fourth and fourtieth Hunger Games?" Shelly asked, excitement leaking into her voice.

My eyes darted left of the screen, where the previous victors of District Four were sitting. Anamara and Johnathe had their arms around each other, and were smiling proudly at their daughter.

Gazella smiled rather arrogantly, turning around and waving at her parents. I sat back, watching the scene unfold in front of me.

This ought to be interesting.

"District Four, you're look at your next victor!" Shelly exclaimed. "Gazelle Haldein!" There was an explosion of applause, and Gazelle gave a small curtsy, before they moved on to the boys.

A small, timid looking thirteen year old was reaped. As usual, there was a volunteer.

"Blake Sevan," he said as he sauntered upstage, with his sea-green eyes and sandy blond hair, smiling winningly at the crowd. Some of the teenaged girls near the back squealed and giggled.

"Sevan? By any chance..."

"Yep," Blake gestured towards where the victors sat. "Marques Sevan, victor of the tenty-sixth Hunger Games-also my dad."

"District Four, two volunteers this year- and their parents both happen to be previous victors! District Four, I give you Gazelle Haldein and Blake Sevan!"

The two tributes shook each others' hands firmly. Blake smirked, winking at Gazelle, who glared back at him. I had a feeling that the two would be quite competitive in the arena.

* * *

District Four was quickly replaced by District Five, with its many factories and buildings.

The sky was slightly clouded as all the citizens gathered in the city square. Unlike the rowdy District Four, District Five was quiet and attentive, though not exactly eager and anticipating, like District Two.

District Five's escort, Mona Summers stepped out, and there was a mild, polite, rather strained applause. Wasting no time with chit-chat, Mona got right down to business, smiling her seemingly permanent, glossed pink smile.

With the classic, "Ladies first!" she reached into the glass bowl, before briskly plunking out a slip of paper, determining the death of a certain girl among the crowd.

"Angela Raven Lockhart!"

There was a small, but piercing shriek from the crowd. The twelve year old girls parted, forming a circle around a small girl. Her jet black hair was rather messy, flowing down her back in choppy tangles.

Peacekeepers surrounded her when she refused to budge, her eyes wide. She was escorted onstage and proceeded to glare at the entire population of District Five, and also Mona. Her eyes darkened and she crossed her arms, though she still looked rather panicked, which wasn't really that surprising. I studied the spark of determination and outrage in her eyes.

Mona ignored her death glare and said, "Onto our male tribute!" She stirred her hand around the glass bowl full of slips of paper. She fished out a single piece and read aloud the name.

"Chase Cameron Everett!"

A small gasp emitted from the crowd. A boy in the fifteen year old section emerged, looking shocked. When he mounted the stage, Mona smiled again. Her cheeks seemed to twitch slightly- maybe from overuse.

"District Five, let's have a round of applause for our tributes for the 51st Hunger Games- Angela Raven Lockhart and Chase Cameron Everett!" Mona turned to the two unhappy tributes and said, "Shake hands, you two."

As even more strained, reluctant applause followed, the two tributes shook hands. Angela narrowed her eyes up at Chase, and then they were escorted into the Justice Building.

* * *

_A/N: Okay, this is Priscilla. For the record, Parris wrote most of this but I had to finish the District 5 reaping, and she left me a bit on the clueless side because I don't have the form for Chase, which is rather inconvenient, so I basically made his part a bit nondescriptive so he could be like anything and he might change (bad planning on my behalf, I suppose, for not asking Parris about it earlier)... But anyway, I hope I didn't completely bungle the ending. -Priscilla X. Silver_


	6. District Six to Eight Reapings

_A/N: Last time, when I wrote the ending, I did not do well…but anyway, I update more often than my sister, usually. I'm really glad you liked it so far, Angela and Chase are submitted by my sister (I think) and I've seen so many characters she's written just like Angela, so I know what to do with her. But she didn't give me a single clue about Chase, so... I don't own the Hunger Games._

_These are the reapings for six, seven, and eight. -Priscilla X. Silver_

* * *

Head Gamemaker, Monique Silver's POV

_Angela narrowed her eyes up at Chase, and then they were escorted into the Justice Building._

District Six, the transportation district, seemed rather quiet. The escort, Gracieux Blaire, was a bubbly woman whose entire body was dyed pale silver. Her violet eyes were too big and her eyelashes too long to be real. She had bunches of flaming red ringlets. Did escorts never change? Always unnaturally happy, with their odd little fashions.

When she was introduced, I could barely hear the brief, near-silent applause. Clearly, the district wasn't pleased. This didn't discourage Gracieux in the least. She ran a manicured hand through her red wig and smiled cheerily. They went through the history, the introductions, the usual.

"Now, let's pick our female tribute!" she said elatedly, flouncing over to the ladies' glass bowl. I waited in anticipation.

"Astrid Greenwich!"

No reaction. No piercing shriek like from District Five or so much as one word. I frowned, but the cameras seemed to focus on the fifteen year old section.

The fifteen year olds parted around a short, petite girl with hollow facial features, deep blue eyes, and a mop of curly brown hair that fell to her shoulders. She was staring straight ahead, looking…empty. Peacekeepers formed a loose ring around her and hurried her onto the stage.

When she was onstage, she seemed to register something. A bit of shock. _She's high, _I realized. There was no other way she could be that hollow. Her skin had the tiniest tinge of yellow. From some sort of drug, maybe?

Gracieux smiled, clearly not feeling awkward at all. She zipped over to the boys' glass bowl and rummaged around, slipping out a piece of paper with yet another blinding smile.

"Casper J. Odin!"

The 16 year old section stirred, moving to reveal a boy of about average height. He was very thin, with a dark tan complexion, gray eyes, short, curly brown hair, and some freckles on his nose. He looked surprised, then angry. Before Peacekeepers could surround him, he made a run for it.

I was a bit surprised myself at his daring, but of course he was caught before he made it far. The Peacekeepers handled him roughly and shoved him onstage. He looked angry, but he didn't move.

"Ladies and gentlemen, I am pleased to present you the District Six tributes for the 51st Annual Games- Astrid Greenwich and Casper Odin!" Gracieux chirped.

Astrid needed some prodding before she moved. Then the two shook hands, and vanished into the Justice Building.

* * *

District Seven seemed extremely displeased, which wasn't surprising either. The outlying districts never liked the reapings. I could see miles of woods. Of course, it was the lumber district. They needed trees. The escort was Melody Maple, who had been doing this for a few years. When she smiled brightly, I began considering which escort would win a contest for smiling.

The mayor and Melody rambled on for a bit about the usual things they do at reapings, and Melody scampered over to the twin glass bowls like a mouse. "As usual, ladies first."

"Giovanna Girilius!"

It wasn't too hard to find Giovanna in the 12-year-old section, mostly because a huge wail rose up. A plump girl with fat cheeks, pale skin, hazel eyes, and curly, long burnt umber hair, burst out crying almost immediately. She barely seemed to notice the stares full of pity around her as she dragged herself onto the stage. Melody patted her arm a few times comfortingly, but Giovanna didn't look very consoled as she bawled on.

_Twelve-year-olds are always the first to go…she doesn't look very promising, _I noted, storing this information inside my head.

Melody continued on to the other glass bowl, patting Giovanna's arm again.

Before she even pulled out a piece of paper, someone yelled, "I volunteer!"

_What in the world- _I stared. A volunteer from District Seven, and one that enthusiastic, no less, was startling. I was even more startled when a small boy from the 13-year-old section began running up to the stage. He had short, caramel-colored hair, gray eyes, features that were a bit feminine, and pale skin. He didn't look very promising, though maybe slightly better than Giovanna, and he clearly wasn't volunteering for a loved one or anything like that. I studied him cautiously, but didn't find anything peculiar. It wouldn't be too hard to take him down.

"A volunteer! How wonderful!" Melody said, looking plenty startled herself. She recovered her composure and said, "What's your name, dear?"

The boy scowled darkly, a sinister gleam in his eyes. There was something not quite right about him, I decided. "Milo Anthony Dracomir."

"I'm pleased to meet you," Melody said with a smile, running a hand through her green and brown hair. "District Seven, I give you your tributes for the Fifty-first Annual Hunger Games- Giovanna Girilius and Milo Anthony Dracomir!"

Giovanna sniffled, wiping her eyes, and offered a hand to Milo, who hesitated, then shook it.

* * *

At this point, I decided to get a snack as they began the District 8 reaping. I took a glass of juice and an apple, then sat down on the couch again, maintaining my ramrod straight posture.

District 8 was shuffling around, silent, in the town square. I saw a little girl in the twelve-year-old section crying her eyes out, and a Peacekeeper smacked her with a baton. Textile factories were scattered around in the distance. The escort, Azura Ryver, had a smile that seemed more forced compared to the other escorts'. The applause following her introduction was even more forced.

"Ladies first," she said, but not as enthusiastically as the other escorts'. She was clearly having a bad day. I sympathized with her. She smoothed her wavy mahogany hair and bounced over to the glass bowls, a light spring in her step. She fished out a slip of paper.

"Ashbrie Crimson!"

Silence.

And then someone walked out of the fifteen-year-old section. She was white, her breathing slightly accelerated, but calm, putting on a brave front, wearing a purple dress. Ashbrie had short, dark brown hair with reddish auburn lowlights, pale freckles, pretty, with an edge. She was thin and of medium height, pretty, and walked stiffly up to the stage. There was a notable scar on her cheek and ferocity in her green eyes, but she was obviously fighting to hold back her emotions.

Azura smiled a very strained smile at Ashbrie, who didn't respond, then zipped over to the other glass bowl as quickly as she could, picking out another piece of paper.

"Aidan Mece!"

Strained silence. Very, very strained silence. I chomped down on my apple a bit too forcefully.

There was something in Ashbrie's eyes that told of horror. And then a boy emerged from the sixteen-year-old section. He was tall, tan, with brown hair and brown eyes. He was shocked, but like Ashbrie, tried to act brave. By the way he was approaching the stage, I could tell he was stalling.

"Well!" Azura tried for another smile, plastering it across her face, but it was so obviously fake I wondered what could possibly have ruined her day, because I seriously doubted it was something trivial like her breaking a nail. As much of a fuss Capitol citizens put up about it (I knew firsthand how dramatic they were), she looked more like storm clouds had abruptly arrived.

"District Eight, here are your tributes for the Fifty-first Games, Ashbrie Crimson and Aidan Mece! Shake hands, please." Azura's stare seemed slightly vacant, wandering.

Ashbrie and Aidan looked at each other. I took another bite of my apple, a little too casually. Then they shook hands, and disappeared into the Justice Building.

* * *

_A/N: I don't think I've ever been so confused or anxious in my life...I'm just completely confused because Parris picked all the tributes and everything because she's more active on fanfiction than I am and I'm lost and Parris is kind of bad at explaining things (actually, she's REALLY bad at explaining things and left me no clue about what to do for her 24/24 collaboration while she's gone)...so, yeah. If there's any mistakes, PM me. I feel completely clueless. (Thanks so much, Parris.) Also, I usually update faster than my sister just because I hate not being busy._


	7. District Nine and Ten Reapings

_A/N: I'm sorry, my update's late, isn't it?_

_I'm still clueless, but apparently at least I haven't totally screwed up. Oh, yes. My sister finally got wifi at a hotel, but she won't be on often, so I'm still doing this. I asked her what Chase was like and apparently she didn't know. Thanks so much. *huffs again* I don't own the Hunger Games._

* * *

_Then they shook hands, and disappeared into the Justice Building._

District Nine was buzzing like a busy beehive, the citizens milling around, but they had tense, anxious expressions on their faces. I decided the Unofficial Brightest Escort Smile Contest for the 51st Hunger Games had ended as soon as I saw Floramundi "Flora" L'Stell (talk about a mouthful). She was the sun itself.

Flora L'Stell had actually grown up in District Nine, but her parents had moved to the Capitol when she was ten. However, she was more sympathetic to the citizens, so her smile was a bit more genuine. She flicked aside a strand of gold hair and moved to the glass bowls gracefully.

"Maybre Westbrook!"

I waited, and I didn't have to wait too long. A small, fourteen-year-old girl walked into the aisle, hazel eyes wide. Her skin was porcelain white, and her wavy, dark brown hair reached to her waist. She was trembling in terror as she approached the escort.

When she was onstage, she looked down at the ground. Flora smiled kindly, and I felt a slight flicker of disgust. That didn't do anything. At any rate, Maybre wouldn't need much to get taken down. Flora slipped out another piece of paper from the alternate glass bowl.

"Francis Reed!"

"I volunteer!" someone called.

The cameras focused on someone in the eighteen-year-old section, while someone I presumed to be Francis released a small cry of relief from nearby. A boy with dark hair and green eyes strode up to the stage. He seemed to be looking at someone in the crowd, but I couldn't make out who it was. His eyes were angry, and sad. He turned to Flora. Maybre stared at him.

"A volunteer!" Flora looked as astonished as the escort who had to deal with Milo. Volunteers, in the outlying districts, were all but extinct. "Excellent! What's your name, darling?"

"Roketi Mauluga."

"Wonderful, wonderful!" Flora smiled radiantly. I began flipping through plans in my head, reviewing the tributes from before that might be able to kill these two or what kind of mutt could kill them; neither seemed very likely victors. For all I knew, they wouldn't survive the bloodbath, but they had at least a little promise.

"District Nine, I give you your tributes, Maybre Westbrook and Roketi Mauluga!"

* * *

Naturally, the minute I encountered District Ten's reaping recap I heard a _moo. _I leaned forward slightly, tossing my apple into a wastebasket nearby. I knew it had gone to its mark when I heard the noise it made upon impact with the metal bottom.

Sofia Keene bounced over to the bowls as soon as the speeches and the history of Panem were over. The population of the district stared up at her blankly.

"Eden Clarke!"

The fourteen-year-old section parted around a tall, thin girl with wide brown eyes and golden-brown hair. She swallowed nervously, and her knees buckled. One of the girls caught her, but looked at her with an expression I couldn't quite read. Eden's eyes filled with tears, and she looked a little green.

Nevertheless, she managed to get onstage. Sofia flipped her hair over her shoulder carelessly and flounced hastily over to the other bowl.

"Finnian Wheeler!"

A tall seventeen-year-old with tanned skin, brown hair, and brown eyes strode confidently out of the crowd that milled about anxiously. He didn't exactly look concerned. He didn't need to be escorted onstage; he seemed confident, arrogant even, as he mounted the stage.

Sofia smiled brightly. "District Ten, here's your tributes for the 51st Games!" She demanded the two tributes shook hands.

Eden blinked the tears out of her eyes and looked up at the boy next to her. They shook hands, and hurried away.

* * *

_A/N: I seriously need to work harder on this. (This is what I get for rushing into more than...I can't count right now.) But anyway, soon the reapings will hopefully be over._


	8. District Eleven and Twelve Reapings

_A/N: The last reaping chapter. Someone else- who would prefer to remain anonymous- wrote the D12 reaping, just so you know. After this, I'm working on train rides, and Parris is writing the chariot rides. Also, if you want to submit to another SYOT, go check out the Eighty-fourth Hunger Games by JuneTwentieth (aka my other account), which I work on without Parris. However, it's not up yet, it'll be up tomorrow._

_Don't own the Hunger Games._

_-Priscilla X. Silver_

* * *

_They shook hands, and hurried away._

District Eleven stirred about, eerily silent, keeping to themselves. Their faces ranged from angry to strained. The escort, Channelle Nightingale, smiled like all was well. I was starting to get impatient. Couldn't recaps go faster? At this rate, I would be blinded by the escorts' smiles. Not every Gamemaker had the fashion sense of a drug addict. At least, I hoped so.

Channelle ran a hand through her hair and exclaimed how delighted she was to be here. Her speech was undoubtedly the most enthusiastic. I realised her eyes were shifting color in the sunlight. Ridiculous. Surgery and its aftereffects. The escorts could make up a circus together. "The Capitol that loved them, fed them, protected them*," blah blah blah.

She rummaged around in the glass bowl for the females of District Eleven and picked out a single slip, unfolding the spotless paper carefully. She squinted at it.

"Ginger Milling!"

There was a gasp somewhere in the crowd. The cameras zeroed in on an eighteen-year-old girl with blonde hair tied up in a messy, braided bun and light brown eyes. Upon realising people were staring at her, she put on a face of determination, but there was still panic in her expression. She was forcing herself toward the stage, not looking at anybody. Her fists were clenched tightly at her sides.

The escort ignored her much-more-than-anxious state and fished out another piece of paper.

"Quailey Moorling!"

A small fourteen-year-old emerged a little too quickly from the crowd, gray eyes wide. He had black hair and olive skin- the typical look of those from that poor section of District Twelve. The Seam. He forced an expression that was something between a smile and a grimace, though it leaned toward the latter.

I jotted down both of the tributes in my mind carefully, wondering how far they would make it, as they shook hands and disappeared.

* * *

Only one more to go! I was almost getting sick of this, but I watched as the poor residents of District Twelve shuffled silently into the square. Their faces were grim. Sitting up on three chairs were the mayor, the tributes' escort, and Haymitch Abernathy, who everyone regarded with great respect, as he was one of only two from their district who had ever won the Hunger Games, and had rebelled, only the year before- which was exactly why I was trying so hard to make a good Games in the first place. Also up there in front of the spectators were two large clear glass bowls, filled with the names of all of the next possible Hunger Games tributes.

"Welcome, everybody, to the District Twelve reaping for the annual Hunger Games!" I had heard this same sentence over and over in each replay, always by some bright, chirpy voice that was not pleasant for my ears. After the speeches that the mayor and escort made (which, frankly, I thought quite unneeded after so many repeats, but would dare not to ever tell the president), it was time for the reaping. I could feel the tension in the crowd even miles away from the event.

"And one more thing, before the reaping begins- may the odds be EVER in your favour!"

The escort during around the huge bowl for the ladies for more than enough time, probably just to create suspense (like they needed any) until she was finally satisfied. It was visible that everybody in the crowd sucked in their cheeks and held their breath, some probably prating, in the few moments filled with apprehension right before the name was called.

"Kazanna Starling!" the cheerful escort mirthfully read, as if she were presenting a million gold coins. The camera immediately zoomed in on a tall girl looked dumbfounded, as if she could not get herself to believe what she suddenly had gotten herself into. She recovered quickly, not wanting to look surprised, and tried to walk calmly onto the stage. Once on, I was surprised to see her stick her tongue out at a boy much younger than she was, probably about seven, presumably her brother. There were also many relieved faces on the screen, knowing they wouldn't have to worry for another year for this to happen.

The cheery escort cleared her throat. "Now for the boys," she proclaimed, moving over to the other glass bowl. Again, signs of anxiety were obvious in the crowd, as she flexed her fingers around the bowl in a very dramatic (and unnecessary) way. "Marquer Deruse!" she announced, in the same fake, bright cheery way. I could see a needy-looking boy in the crowd, looking completely and utterly shocked. He froze for a moment, digesting this information, then stiffly walked up to the stage. The two soon-to-be-be tributes shook hands, and were soon out of sight in the Justice Building.

I finally shut off the huge TV, even before the video officially ended.

* * *

I poured myself a glass of orange juice thoughtfully. It looked like an interesting cast this year. I ran mentally through every tribute I'd seen, sipping my juice peacefully, which was the polar opposite description of the Games I was planning.

_You can't tell anything by some reapings, _I reminded myself. But then:

_It doesn't matter, Monique. This year's Games will still have to be one of the best yet. There's no other option._

* * *

_A/N: *That was a reference to what the little film in the Hunger Games movie said. I was seriously steamed at the Capitol about that part. Can't they at least be frank about something?_


End file.
